Responding to immigration crisis

How do you define American? That's the question we as a nation must urgently answer.

Each day, thousands of young women and children cross into the United States seeking an opportunity to live, and hoping for a shot at the American dream. So many are now coming that Pope Francis as well as President Obama have called it a "humanitarian crisis." According to the United Nations, the majority of people crossing our border now could be classified as refugees.

This past week the organization I direct, Define American, came to McAllen, Texas, in order to join with the Minority Affairs Council to stand in solidarity with and to humanize the stories of the children and families fleeing the most dangerous regions of Central America.

We discovered that after these refugees have walked across a continent for a month, often through the roughest trails imaginable, they're immediately detained by U.S. Border Patrol agents (who are doing their jobs). After their shoelaces and belts are taken and thrown away, they're questioned for hours or days.

In the Rio Grande Valley, those not immediately deported are sent to a shelter at Sacred Heart Church in McAllen, Texas. Upon arrival at the church everyone — especially the volunteers — stands and applauds. They applaud these human beings. Just as Lady Liberty has stood as a welcoming symbol in the New York harbor for generations, proclaiming "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free," these saints stand and welcome the huddled masses of today.

As we sought to highlight the stories of refugees during our time in the border town of McAllen, it became apparent that the founder of our organization, Jose Antonio Vargas, might not be able to leave — a situation shared by thousands of undocumented Americans who are "trapped" at the border.

Born in the Philippines (once a U.S. territory), he was sent to the U.S. as a child. At the age of 16 he learned that he was undocumented and has shared his story with the nation these past three years, making him possibly the most well-known undocumented American. Last Tuesday morning, Vargas attempted to board a plane to Los Angeles, where we were scheduled to screen our film "Documented" (the film had its Kentucky premiere in Louisville in April), and was detained. He was detained because our border is, in fact, a militarized zone and extremely secure.

The last thing Jose Antonio Vargas said to me before leaving for the hotel that Tuesday morning was, "Our America is better than this — more humane, more compassionate — and we are fighting for a better America: a country we love but one that has yet to recognize us."

Like most people of faith, I believe we will one day have to answer for our actions and our inactions, personally and as a nation. Scripture teaches that "if a stranger dwells with you in your land, you shall not mistreat him," but rather "love him as yourself; for you were strangers in the land of Egypt." This is just one of many passages, found in the texts of all major religions, underscoring our mandate to welcome immigrants in our midst. Today, in their hour of need, will we embrace our immigrant heritage as a nation, or will we shrink from our responsibility to our neighbors?

We are a nation of laws, but not all of our laws have always been just. We were a nation of laws when slavery was legal and when women had no right to vote. So, while Congress and our president must act to repair our unjust laws, we as a nation must come together as a country to keep these children safe and keep families together.

Although I've been involved in justice ministry and organizing for over a decade and a half now, what we went through during our time in McAllen was among the most eye-opening, jarring and difficult things I've experienced.

To all those who continue to stand with the border children, now is no time to lose hope. Ours is the fight for justice, and the fight to save the very soul of our nation.

Will we be a people who block buses of kids from getting the care and shelter they seek, or will we show compassion to those who have already suffered so much? These are children and they deserve to live freely and without fear. We must simultaneously stand with and pray for undocumented Americans still trapped at the border and with those women and children who, if deported immediately (as some are suggesting), will face death.

Our fate is tied to one another, and how we choose to treat each other now is ultimately what will define America.

Ryan M. Eller is an ordained Baptist minister, the campaign director of Define American, and the former U.S. campaigns director at Change.org. He has managed multiple political campaigns at the local, state and federal levels. Eller lives with his wife, Laura, in Louisville.